


Keep A Brushin' Those Clouds Away

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Top Steve Rogers, first time in a long time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 04:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16803232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: "I'll always come for you, Bucky, you know that."





	Keep A Brushin' Those Clouds Away

**Author's Note:**

> So. After spending a while trying to decide precisely what sort of story I wanted to write, my brain very helpfully supplied hey, you know what's going to make everybody mad? Take a super emotional moment and make porn of it.
> 
> So I did.
> 
> I have no excuse beyond this is just who I am as a person, and I honestly don't expect anyone to be forgiving. I kinda hate that this is how I'm wired, more so that I can't write a 60k word fic where they only kiss in the last chapter. I'm an instant gratification sort of person. Believe me, it's not my favorite thing either.
> 
> As this story stands right now, I did write two more parts of it - but I don't feel like they ultimately fit with the tone I was trying to create, so I'm going to let the first third of it stand on its own, and may come back in the future and finish fleshing out the rest of the draft. This will also be my last fic of 2018, as I am tired and want to read books. 
> 
> If you like this fic, please leave a comment. More comments means I write more, for those of you who actually enjoy it.

It takes a lot out of Steve’s efforts to keep his face from showing sorrow sometimes.

Especially with Bucky trapped in that steel press, his shoulders slumped in humiliation and his gaze cast towards the scorched, pocked floor. It breaks Steve’s heart even more that Sam regards him with such poorly concealed contempt, sight unseen. No, Steve can’t blame him for acting that way. In Sam’s eyes, Bucky’s someone who not so long ago was doing his best to end Steve’s life.

And okay, yes - that might have gone a long way to tearing Steve’s moral imperative to do the right thing even further apart. Like watching Bucky fall off of that train wasn’t enough, and at the time Steve had wanted nothing more than to fall over the edge with him, much less see their mission through to completion. But having Bucky’s hands at his throat almost eighty years later, well - it didn’t exactly help him think clearly. This is not how he was expecting to be reunited with him, not in this life anyway.

Given how strange the last few days have been, this might well  _ be  _ the next life. He spent over seventy years on ice, so it was as good as being dead anyway. More than a hell of a long time for the world to change in most every conceivable way.

And Bucky, God,  _ Bucky,  _ had changed right along with it, in no way for the better, either. Gone was the man who had meant more to Steve than any other person to walk the face of this planet, tragically, brutally twisted to this tool of chaos and destruction. 

Steve had been wrong up until now -  _ that’s  _ what hurts the most, knowing and seeing that Bucky had been completely robbed of his identity and agency, changed to serve HYDRA’s nefarious purposes, that, were it up to Bucky, he never would have consented to. Bucky isn’t...that.

“Stop looking at me like I’m gonna take off, Steve.” Bucky pulls against the press, the only manacle that stands a chance of holding him.

Steve turns to Bucky, the faintly chiding tone of his voice a throwback to sometime in 1936. It’s the same thing he’d told Steve after their first kiss, in the kitchen of their tiny, crappy apartment they had shared following Sarah’s death.

The same, shell-shocked feeling makes its way up from below Steve’s stomach, turning it upside down. He tries for a grin that he hopes comes off as wry, and walks away from the hushed conversation he’d been having with Sam.

“Don’t let him out of that thing,” Sam warns - like he’s going to let either Steve  _ or  _ Bucky out of his sight. “He hasn’t exactly done a lot to gain any trust just yet.”

Bucky looks back down at the ground, like he’s just been caught in the middle of some grievous act. Steve balls his fists to stop himself from reaching out and touching Bucky, no matter how badly he aches to do so. He’s not even vested in touching him intimately - just for the sake of comfort, so that Bucky can feel something other than pain. The only thing holding him back is the knowledge that Bucky’s been handled, hurt, and manipulated enough over the last half century or so that Steve isn’t about to cross that line until - if he gets it - he has Bucky’s explicit permission.

“Not gonna,” he finally answers to Sam, standing before Bucky and just… looking. Bucky looks like he’s been through hell and back enough for ten lives, the cast of his eyes glassy and distant, face haggard and bruised. His expression makes him appear that he’s trying to keep a lifetime of shit experiences from playing out across his features, trained into showing little emotion. He barely looks to have control of his own mind, and after what they’ve been through today - thanks to Zemo - Steve supposes he can’t really blame Bucky for looking like he’s about to lose his fucking marbles. It makes Steve’s heart hurt anew, having had to watch every second of that take place without being able to do a thing about it.

But Steve knows the man he was - is - lingers under that damaged surface, and Steve  _ will  _ find a way to bring him back.

He knows that Bucky knows who he is, somewhere deep down. HYRDA hadn’t managed to erase everything, obviously. Bucky’s always been stronger than that. If he wasn’t, both himself and Sam would be dead right now. He’s holding on tight to that belief.

It’s as good of a justification as any for letting Bucky out of the press. He’s been interrogated by them enough, and Steve refuses to hold him prisoner any longer. To be the one deliberately holding Bucky captive? Yeah, Steve can’t do it anymore.

“Steve, don’t-”

“He’s fine.”

Maybe saying it will help Bucky believe it too.

The look on Bucky’s face tells Steve that he very definitely  _ isn’t  _ fine, but Steve is full of enough willpower to anything within his reach to change that. He does what he has to to the press, and when Bucky pulls his arm free of the heavy block, it’s with a grateful, muted  _ thank you  _ that has Steve wanting to pull him to his chest and never, ever let go of him again.

Sam holds himself at the ready, shifting to combat stance in a split second - but Bucky doesn’t look in the least bit prepared to take a swing at anyone. “You said that you weren’t the only Winter Soldier.”

Bucky tells them what they need to know, and Steve catalogues the information while only half hearing any of it. He can’t focus on much else besides how  _ unlike  _ Bucky he sounds. Yeah, what he has to say is important, and it’s information that will help - but Steve’s too close to the situation, too messed up from having Bucky back in his life to finish what they need to. Problem being, they’re all that the three of them have right now. Better than nothing, but hell, the situation has never been ideal for any of them, has it?

He finishes, and promptly goes back to looking like someone without a clear purpose. Steve can’t do a lot that, not right now at least. He turns back to Sam, like he’s going to find any sort of answer in Sam’s frown. He trusts him to say  _ something,  _ but all he gets is a dejected sort of shrug.

“You said you know a guy, Sam - how soon can he be here?” At least there’s always going to be a mission to focus on, come what may. He looks back to Bucky, hoping to indicate that yes, he’s included in this process as well.

Even if it doesn’t look like Bucky is spoiling for a fight right now. The last place Steve wants to drag him is into the middle of a conflict. All of them have been beaten and shot at enough recently that a fucking break is overdue.

Sam sighs, deciding that he’s been overruled so far as including Bucky is concerned. “Soon enough - and before I make  _ any  _ sort of calls, is there something between the two of you that gonna make all of this go belly up? Something I need to know about?” Sam’s concern, for both what they’re all about to have to undertake  _ and  _ for Steve, is genuine, and yes, this is one of those times where Sam’s overactive perceptiveness is feeling a little invasive.

Bucky is the one to answer, much to Steve’s suprise.

“Sam, could you just… leave it alone? Please?” Steve picks up the slightly pleading tone in his voice, making a vice squeeze in his chest. More than that, it gives Steve a clue that Bucky very likely has more to tell Steve that doesn’t involve Sam as part of the conversation.

Traitorous, unstoppably powerful hope blooms in Steve’s heart, only to manifest as ruddy shame on his cheeks. That’s  _ not  _ what he needs to focus on right this moment, and Sam much see the way it makes Steve turn away from the both of them to try and hide it. There’s no way that Sam’s amused sniff can be mistaken for anything else than “yes, I’ve picked up on the vibe between you two” - even if there’s been nothing to indicate that.

Well, it’s not entirely true. The pull towards Bucky is as irresistible as it ever way, and it’s brought them back together. For the longest time, Steve had thought the inability to resist Bucky had died with him on that mountain. It had almost proven deadly when Bucky - The Winter Soldier, rather - had tried to end his life on the streets of D.C. - and even then, Steve had found himself helpless to deliberately try and kill Bucky.

So yes, there’s a vibe, and Steve is going to have to get a handle on his emotions before he ends up placing them in even more danger. Sam is already owed a million and one favors for being with him anyway, and to start digging up he and Bucky’s shared, history, well, it’s more than Sam should have to bear witness to. What he and Bucky had is from a completely different lifetime and their single priority right now, at least, is to lay low.

That still doesn’t means it’s easy for Steve to keep his base wants in check, both emotional and physical.

But there’s not been a single point in his life that Bucky hasn’t caused some sort of powerful reaction within him.

Sam backs off, but the concerned look doesn’t leave his face - and neither does the healthy amount of “I know you’re full of it, Rogers, but I know  _ exactly  _ what you’re up to.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave it alone, but someone - and soon - is gonna fill me in.”

Steve nods, reluctantly, and turns his gaze back to Bucky. “Think you could find some water, Sam?” It’s as much a physical need as it is to have a chance to talk to Bucky without Sam’s unnecessarily powerful frown and admittedly biased input.

Sam’s eyebrows furrow harder, and Steve has to put as much pleading into his expression as he can manage - which, on occasion, does work on Sam.

As it does now.

It costs him another world class eyeroll, but Steve knows he’s won this round. “The two of you work out whatever you need, and if there’s any trouble…” He gives Bucky another pointed look, and Steve feels compelled to defend him until his dying breath.

Which, if things keep going to shit, might not be that much longer anyway.

Sam leaves them alone, and now that they are indeed alone, Steve suddenly finds himself struggling to find where to begin. What the hell can he say in a twenty minute - if that much - long conversation - when twenty  _ years  _ wouldn’t be enough?

Hierarchy of needs - ask the simple questions first. Steve can manage that much. Bucky is still hunched over on top of the metal bow, looking down at his hands, his fingers still and threaded together. Whatever he’s concentrating on trying to say or not say, Steve intends to find out.

Steve crouches down in front of Bucky, nearly close enough that their knees are touching. Even through the sweat and grime, Bucky is still undeniably the most arrestingly gorgeous person that Steve has ever set eyes on. 

_ Enough, Steve. There are far bigger things that you need to take care of right now. _

“Tell me what you need, Bucky.”

Bucky barely lifts his head, but he does at least meet Steve’s eyes. “A rewind of the last eighty years, a drink. Maybe some sleep.” He tries to follow up with a smile - but it doesn’t extend past the corners of his mouth. “I guess one of those isn’t an option.”

“You’d be surprised, Buck, it’s not exactly hard to grab a beer in Berlin. Beer gardens, pubs…” Steve huffs a laugh, even if it isn’t the perfect definition of sincere. “Think it might be a little difficult to manage right now. Whole city’s on the lookout for us.”

“So a raincheck on the drink, then, huh?” Bucky really is trying to engage, and Steve know that he should be fixing everything that he to try and help him along. “Can’t exactly say I have fond memories of the place. Rail system is shit for throwing people off the side.”

Even if it is a joke, Steve doesn’t want him to relive that pain, for Bucky’s sake or his own. Steve’s  _ still  _ trying to reconcile that incident with the fact that Bucky’s sitting right here in front of him, and that he isn’t indeed dead.

“Bucky…” He wants to cry just thinking about it, but that’s not going to help anyone right now. “That, listen, it was…”

“I know, Steve.” He apologizes with a weak grin, hunching his shoulders even harder. “But I remember it. Some of it.” Bucky falters, and Steve leans forward to listen. “I remember falling. Felt like it was… endless. When I hit the ground, my last thought was how, God, Steve, how upset you would be. Because we failed, and how important that mission was but… I fell. And I failed, and you were never going…” Bucky’s eyes have this distant, dull stare to them, and Steve reaches for his hands, one warm and callused, hardened by decades of combat and war, the other cold, metal, inhuman, servos quietly whirring as their fingers thread together.

“Don’t say that I was never going to see you again.” Steve had never uttered the words aloud, afraid for so long that if he did then that would just… be the end. He swallows hard against the emotions fighting up his throat, determined to not let past tragedy break him now. “Because we did, Buck. We  _ are. _ ”

Bucky shakes his head, frustration at trying to find his way through his own mind coloring his features with this terrifying, raw hurt, so deep that Steve’s heart pangs in sympathy. “This isn’t how I wanted it to be, Steve, I… when I was sent to kill you, I had… there was a moment, just one, before I was put back under by them, all… all I could think about was that you were still alive. Somehow, and it nearly was enough. Enough to break me out of it.” Bucky pauses, shaking his head and laughing like a man on the gallows. “Then I was gone again, and…” 

Tears shine brightly in Bucky’s eyes, tears of frustration and a loss that, Steve suspects, he never even had time to properly grieve - and yet, none of them fall.

“I know the rest, Bucky.” 

Steve tightens their fingers together, hoping like hell that even this little bit of contact can still mean something to Bucky, enough to penetrate past the mess of what HYDRA had done to his mind. “If I had known before, that you were here, and… I would have come for you. I’ll always come for you, Bucky.”

He can barely get the words out past the pain that he’s tried to manipulate into something easier to deal with, his windpipe feeling crushed to the point of choking. It’s not so different from the asthma he had during his early life, when Bucky would rub his back and help him through the worst spells.

Only Bucky’s the one who’s in need now.

Bucky sinks to his knees before him, putting them at eye level with each other, grasping Steve’s hands so tightly that he feels the bone shift. When he speaks, he sounds like he’s struggling to stay above water, adrift in his own mind. “I know you would, Steve, I wanted to come back, to just stop and… do that, but my mind… it’s like I was just along for the ride and there was  _ nothing  _ I could do to get off.” He bends his head closer, near enough that Steve can feel the puff of his breath on his face. “But they could never take you away, Steve. No matter how hard they tried, I still remembered you. What we had. Always thought it would be gone, that one more time under the needle and… but it wasn’t. I remembered you, Steve, even when I thought they had finally erased you.”

Steve breaks, the sob that escapes him coming freely, past the point of being able to do anything about it. He puts his arms around Bucky, shuffling forward on his knees so that they’re pressed as close as possible. Captain America slips away, replaced by grief, crying over the loss of his mother, a young man being told that he would never be enough to serve, and above all, for the hell-bent people that took the man he loved away from him.

Bucky hugs him back, his mouth right next to Steve’s ear-

“I missed you, Steve.”

Those four words come out in this broken, barely audible whisper, and Steve clings to Bucky all the more tightly, eyes screwed shut and body wracked with sobs, pain and relief tearing through him in equal measure. Long rusted, jagged pieces of his his soul slam painfully back together, forcing apart those which he tried to make work for himself in the wake of loss. Bucky holds him, his hands and fingers moving over the expanse of Steve’s back and shoulders, mapping him, coming up to hold his face and running over the sides of his neck and then finally, back down his arms. Steve knows exactly what he’s doing, breaking free of the utter shitshow inside his brain, replacing the things that haunt him with the solid root of their past.

He’s finding his way back home.

Even as the tears track down his face, Steve can feel his body coming alive under Bucky’s touch, hot and sudden like dry tinder under flame. He doesn’t act on it, even if it does take an effort to not do so. Hell, it’s always been difficult to control himself when it comes to Bucky, as helpless as iron to a magnet. The guilt he feels for getting turned on? It’s not enough to make him stop, but Steve remembers what it was like, to have and hold Bucky so  _ intimately.  _

And Bucky won’t stop touching him, the memories start coming into sharper and sharper focus. Part of him hopes like hell that Bucky can find those memories too, that this path they’ve started to tread with the  _ utmost  _ caution will end where they both want. It’s selfish, Steve will freely admit that, but… it’s like being presented with a feast after an eon of starvation.

He clings to Bucky even more tightly, at a loss for what to do next.

Steve’s sobs finally calm, and soon all he’s left with is his eyes closed against Bucky’s shoulder, their arms still around each other. Bucky keeps running his flesh-and-blood fingers through Steve’s hair, a tender gesture that Steve hasn’t felt since 1944.

“I missed you too, Buck.” Steve feels a little more of the hurt slip from his system, and maybe some of the guilt, too. Spending so long on ice didn’t do much to alleviate the feeling that maybe he should have gone with Bucky over the side of that mountain. Now, it’s starting to feel a little less overpowering, that maybe there’s a shred of hope for them.

“Steve,” Bucky croaks, his own voice wrecked by tears. Steve finally looks him in the eye, blinking away moisture. “Did you hear me?” He rests back on his heels, cradling Steve’s face in his fingers. “I remember  _ us. _ ”

Steve swallows, still torn between desire and the fact that this might not be good for Bucky’s fragile psyche. Knowing what Bucky meant is  _ dangerous.  _ “I know, Bucky, I… I hear you. I can’t.. I don’t want to put that on you, not when you’re…”

_ Not when it might hurt you even more. _

_ Not when you’re so broken that there’s nothing I can do to fix it. _

Bucky’s thumbs brush the corners of Steve’s mouth, his gaze clear and burning with the light of someone who is  _ fully  _ aware of what he’s doing. It makes Steve stop breathing, seeing the exact same expression on Bucky’s face that he used to get right before he sucked Steve’s cock; raw, unbridled need, coupled with a devotion so fierce that Steve thinks that it might atomize him.

“What do  _ you  _ need, Steve?”

All the air is forced from Steve’s lungs as he leans forward, murmuring “ _ you _ .” Their lips touch, tentatively, like the slightest misstep could shatter the both of them. That may yet happen, since Steve feels like this is all some elaborate dream on every conceivable level.

And yet, Steve still can’t bring himself to cross the line, not until he’s positive that it’s Bucky calling the shots in his own head right now. There’s no way, no matter how badly Steve wants this, the he would ruin Bucky’s agency or trust. Making sure Bucky is okay is infinitely more important than base physical needs.

“Steve, listen - I trust you. You’re talking to  _ your  _ Bucky, the...the real one.” Bucky sounds every bit sincere, and Steve is  _ this _ close to believing him, and yet, Bucky is no one’s. His own person. “I’ve waited so goddamn long for this, Steve.” Bucky tips Steve’s chin up, and Steve can hear the ache of long-repressed desire in his voice, the overpowering need to let this - whatever  _ this  _ might be - happen.

“I trust you,” Bucky repeats. He takes Steve’s face in his hands and brings them closer. “I’ve  _ always  _ trusted you.”

Steve knows it’s real the second Bucky’s mouth seals over his with heartbreaking hesitance, lighting his soul flame as he licks Steve’s lips from left to right. The kiss is an exact replica of their first one, something that will forever be imprinted on Steve’s memory.

HYDRA could have never,  _ ever  _ been able to teach Bucky that.

It gives Steve more hope, that maybe Bucky can indeed be saved from his own mind, even if their future - provided they get one - will never be the same as their past. Steve accepts that, and lets old wounds finally start the healing process. 

When Steve starts to kiss him back, Bucky lets out a surprised little moan that makes the bottom of Steve’s stomach fall out. Both of them are trembling, bodies and minds adjusting to long-buried sensations, the massive gulf of time and space slamming together so fast that it makes his head spin. He opens his mouth little by little, bracing himself for the worst, just in case when he finally tastes all of Bucky, he finds that it’s all been some cruel joke.

He quashes that thought in a hurry, and slides his fingers up into Bucky’s hair.

Steve finds it greasy, knotted and snarled in place that aren’t readily visible; it still feels like heaven, and when Bucky’s tongue at long last touches his own, he can still taste the salt-burn of adrenaline that’s been cooling in their systems since he pulled him out of the river.

It flips a switch inside of him, and Steve finds himself hungering for even more. There will never, ever be enough of a fill when it comes to Bucky, as vital to his existence as breathing. He can’t stop the he pulls Bucky towards him, knees hurting from being on the concrete floor for so long. Bucky comes easily, never breaking their deepening kiss and he ends up in Steve’s lap, legs slotted over Steve’s thighs. Right away, Steve can feel the massive difference in the shape and weight of Bucky’s body from when he last held him; he’s all powerful, coiled muscle, ready to crush and destroy at the slightest bidding. Steve feels sorrow build in his heart for Bucky, that he was transformed so brutally against his will.

And yet, the primal, lizard-brained part of Steve wants to test just how much Bucky can handle, albeit with far less clothing between them and no one looking to arrest them.

Bucky has to break the kiss, and when he runs his fingers - both metal and flesh - over Steve’s face, his touch is feather soft. “Is that your first kiss since 1944?” Bucky doesn’t wait for him to answer before following with a second one, and Steve has to beat back the unwittingly funny sense of deja vu, having had Nat’s words echoed back perfectly to him.

“The only one that’s mattered, Bucky.” Like hell if he could  _ ever  _ hope to replace him.

“Me too.” Bucky keeps touching Steve’s face, eyes falling shut as his tongue dips back into Steve’s mouth. This time, it’s more assured, like Bucky has a better handle on himself and can finally listen to what he wants. Steve hasn’t dared to make a move towards anything more, trying to ignore the heat building in his gut. 

He’s going to move at whatever pace Bucky sets, no matter how astoundingly hard his cock is right now.

Under the circumstances, Steve shouldn’t even be  _ thinking  _ about sex; they’re still fugitives, and there isn’t a single reason to believe that Sam won’t be coming back at any given second. Steve works fast to shut down the idea of their reunion being cut short, and re-focuses on kissing Bucky harder.

Bucky’s right hand splays out over Steve’s chest, fingers rubbing and slowly making their way south. Steve can feel his heart going a million miles a minute, hammering the inside of his chest so loudly it’s like machine gun fire in his ears. He’s frozen in place, daring to hope that Bucky’s going where he so badly wants him to.

“Steve,” Bucky pants, voice cracking with the sort of arousal that’s already at the boiling point. “Steve, I want to see you.” His fingertips have reached the top of Steve’s belt, hand warm enough to feel like it’s burning a hole right through the thin material of Steve’s t-shirt.

“ _ Need  _ to see you,” Bucky murmurs, sounding very confident in what he wants.

Steve casts his doubts aside, accepting that there’s no going back and fuck all if he even  _ wants  _ to.

“Yeah, Bucky, we can do that.” Steve kisses him with a near devouring hunger, sucking on Bucky’s bottom lip and digging his fingers hard into Bucky’s hips, sliding them up his ribcage until they’re both on their feet again, locked together, pulling apart when they’re out of breath and Steve can  _ feel  _ the sparks that they’re making across each other’s skin. It’s a fast, powerful drug, and Steve has no intentions of stopping now. One hit just isn’t enough, for either of them.

Steve’s nearly undone when Bucky reaches down and adjusts himself, eyes following the motion of Steve’s hands as he grabs the hem of shirt from the bottom and lifts it clear of his body. He can’t stop at just taking the shirt off, flexing and popping his chest; he’s covered in dark blonde hair, highlighting every muscle on his torso. Steve isn’t vain about it, not really - this body is a tool, one that he tries to use to do as much good as possible.

But for Bucky? Yes, he’s going to fucking preen a little bit.

Bucky’s eyes go wide, lips parting and his tongue slipping out to wet them. His left hand goes to his cock, while his right reaches for Steve’s chest, spreading his fingers out once more. “Just as… perfect, Steve, so, so perfect.” Bucky takes a step closer, fingers trailing over the dips and planes of Steve’s body. Steve lets him explore, watching Bucky’s face the whole time. What he’s doing is as much about arousal as it is memory, and through the almost innocent fascination, Steve can easily see the connections being made between now and the past.

It’s been a  _ long  _ time, for both of them.

“Any idea what you do to me, Buck?” Steve shivers as Bucky’s fingers continue their journey, caressing his hips before moving around to touch his back. He’s been standing with his hands on Bucky’s biceps this whole time, feeling every flex and movement as Bucky refamiliarizes himself with his body. He’s so fucking hard that it feels like his cock could burst out of his jeans with just a thought, sweating anew when Bucky’s cool, metal fingers ghost over his right nipple.

“I remember that too.” Bucky’s expression turns from fascination to wicked, spine-melting intent, closing the distance until there isn’t any space between them and his body heat is making the hair on Steve’s forearms stand on end. “Remember you used to get so fuckin’ wet when I touched you here.” Bucky goes back to Steve’s nipple and tugs, making Steve groan from somewhere low in his chest. He can feel his cock throb, adding even more to the sticky inside of his boxer briefs.

“Some things don’t change, Buck.” Steve is trying hard as hell to hold back, to not sweep Bucky up in the tidal wave of his arousal, which is becoming more and more difficult to hold back, running hot through his veins, hot enough to make him sweat. “I… I want to…”

God, Steve wants it  _ all. _

“Yeah, Steve, I know.” Bucky’s metal hand goes low, finding the hard, thick line of Steve’s cock, pointed and straining down the right side of his jeans. “I do too, fuck, Steve, I want you so fucking  _ badly  _ right now.” He’s shaking, not a shadow of fear coloring his features. He’s no longer nervous, simply waiting for the last mental check in himself that he trusts his own doing.

“Then have me, Buck.” Steve has given him all the permission he can, given  _ himself  _ all that he can. Now it’s up to Bucky, the ball firmly in his court.

All he needs to do is make the decision.

Bucky grabs Steve’s face so suddenly that it takes the very air from his lungs, crashing their mouths together  _ hard _ and melding them. Steve’s brain takes a second to catch up, getting everything back online after being slammed full force - and just  _ once  _ \- by Bucky.

That kiss is all it takes for the dam to burst.

Steve’s tongue finds Bucky’s, over and over again, sending continual, booming depth charges of pure sex deep down into Steve’s blood. Their hands are anywhere and everywhere on each other, eventually getting Bucky’s shirts off, finally getting their first taste of naked skin pressed together. Bucky bares himself to Steve, waiting for him to stake his claim once more.

Steve sucks a mark into Bucky’s collarbone, and eventually they wind up backed against a low workbench, the cold metal digging hard into the small of Steve’s back. Bucky keeps Steve’s legs spread with one thick-muscled thigh, grinding their hips together, the friction in Steve’s jeans feeling like far too much and not  _ nearly  _ enough at the same time. Steve needs to get himself out of his pants, cock freed and in either his or Bucky’s hands to try and get some relief - but he can’t move, too drunk on Bucky’s touch and taste to make his brain and body function together as a unit.

“Bucky, baby, can you just…” Steve rocks his hips forward, trusting Bucky to know what he means. Bucky licks across Steve’s mouth, and steps back, just enough to give himself room to work. He looks down, chewing his lip as he unbuckles Steve’s belt and jeans. The more Bucky loosens, the tighter Steve’s gut clenches, wanting a million different things and for whatever reason, finding himself completely unable to articulate a single one of them.

“Yeah, Steve, I can.” Bucky gives him another look that harkens back to a long time ago, and leans in close to kiss him again. “Want you to come in my mouth, spin me around, then use your own own to fuck me - just like we used to.” Bucky says it all so clearly, directly going for what Steve wants the most.

Steve truly didn’t pin his chance of dying from extreme arousal as being all that high, not today at least, but if Bucky can drop that little memory on him - damaged mind or not - on him without much hesitance, Steve may well not be long for this earth.

“Fucky, Bucky, yeah, we… we can do that.” Steve pulls him for another protracted kiss, teeth sinking into Bucky’s bottom lip as Bucky finally gets his jeans loose enough to push them down past his thighs, freeing his cock at last. Bucky’s flesh and blood fingers curls around his shaft, stroking while the metal one holds himself steady against Steve’s hip, connecting them at every possible point.

Steve feels like he might be a little closer to heaven, and Bucky’s going to be the one who finally puts him there.

“You always did come apart so beautifully for me, you know that?” Bucky lets go of Steve’s hip and works his own pants open, shoving them down as far as he can get them without letting go of Steve. He puts himself close again, stroking their cocks together, making Steve gasp at the long-familiar sensation of Bucky’s cock against his own.

“Never was able to resist you, Bucky.” Steve looks down, both of them slicked and dripping with precome. Bucky is uncut, just like him, Bucky’s glans more helmet than mushroom shaped like Steve’s. Their enhancements have left them both long and girthy - not that Bucky had anything to be ashamed of  _ before  _ HYDRA happened. Steve feels an ugly rush of guilt for admiring Bucky’s size, not when he knows how he got it. God, it enrages him, knowing the damage they they did to him.

Bucky picks up on Steve’s sudden change of mood and tilts his chin up, his gaze full of lust and fondness. “I’m not mad about how they changed me there.” He strokes them together, sparks crackling across each other’s skin, liquifying Steve’s spine. “When I had the chance, uh, when I was off line, I guess, I’d touch myself thinking about you. How you’d look when you saw…”

He drifts off, and Steve is eager to fill the rest in. “Saw what?”

“How big they made me. How good it would feel when you touched me.” Bucky takes Steve’s right hand and replaces it on their cocks, letting Steve take over stroking them. Both of them moan low, and Bucky sags forward against his shoulder, breathing hard.

“And does it feel that way? Good?” Steve is out of his mind with pleasure, skin feeling way too tight but Christ it’s good,  _ better  _ than good.

“Incredible, Steve.”

Bucky shudders hard enough that Steve thinks something is wrong, and without any further warning, he comes all over both of their cocks and Steve’s stomach, crying into Steve’s shoulder with relief that’s undoubtedly been denied to him for far too long. Steve lets go of his own cock to focus on just Bucky’s,  _ feeling  _ his pleasure being shared with every spasm of Bucky’s body.

“Steve, shit, I’m… I’m sorry, it’s just been so  _ long,  _ and…” Bucky sounds wrecked, ashamed, and it makes Steve’s heart break for him all over again. Steve could never,  _ ever  _ be mad at him for taking his pleasure so soon, at whatever pace  _ Bucky  _ needs to.

“Shh, Buck, it’s okay - didn’t do a damn thing wrong.” Feeling Bucky’s sticky, warm come all over him has gotten Steve right up to the edge, and knowing that it  _ is  _ Bucky’s drives him wild. Bucky’s still hard as a rock too, bumping against Steve’s.

“How long’s it been, Bucky?”  
Bucky’s voice drops low and he puts his mouth right against Steve’s ear, whispering “you were the last, Steve, just like you’ve always been.”

The weight of Bucky’s confession is enough to put Steve over the edge, barely getting his hand back on himself before he comes all over his stomach and Bucky, covering him with so much that his knees are suddenly losing their integrity. His whole body feels afire with pleasure, and Bucky takes over stroking his cock, keeping that flame burning hot.

“God, Bucky, just… don’t fucking  _ stop _ .” Steve’s at a loss for anything else right now, his whole world shrinking down to Bucky and touching, tasting, getting as much of him as possible.

“Not planning on it,” Bucky hums, scooping some of Steve’s come from his body and licking it up from his steel fingertips. “Just like it used to be.” He kisses Steve, plunging his tongue deep into his mouth. Steve holds Bucky’s jaw and face, licking and licking, taking from Bucky so long as he’s willing to let Steve have it.

The time they’ve lost nonwithstanding, Stev gets the feeling that their reserves of attention for each other are still far from finding their limit. Steve keeps kissing and sucking on Bucky’s tongue until long after their aftershocks have stilled, dying back down into ready arousal for each other.

They’re still both hard, very hard, one orgasm just barely enough to take the edge off. Steve remembers the handful of nights they had together during the war when they actually had nothing to worry about, how Bucky would wring five or six orgasms from him. The only thing that stopped them was the plain face that Bucky couldn’t physically handle him anymore, Steve’s stamina and tolerance so great enhanced that so far, it had been the only downside they’d found.

Bucky finally lets Steve’s mouth go, his eyes the dark, stormy blue that Steve remembers so well, seeing the same lust-drunk happiness that he used to get after he and Steve had fucked each other senseless under the dark European sky. It does Steve a hell of a lot of good to see that look again, knowing that Bucky is, at least in part, there with him.

“Where are you, Steve?” Bucky kisses his chin, lips warm and stubble scratchy. “Don’t check out on me yet.”

“Nowhere, Buck, just… nowhere.” It’s the only thing that really articulates Bucky’s expectation, because they could be here, Brookly, London, hell the far reaches of some desert - it wouldn’t matter, because the only constant that Steve cares about is  _ Bucky _ .

“Promise I’m still with you, Steve.” Bucky kisses his way down Steve’s body, his lips touching the hot spots that he mapped out and committed to memory so, so long ago. “Never could forget this, no matter how hard they tried to force me.” Bucky still hasn’t taken his hand off of Steve’s cock, stroking slowly but firmly; Steve can feel the strength that Bucky is keeping in check every time his fingers pass over the head, loosening his grip only slightly before he tightens back up on the downstroke. His fingers are rough, callused,  _ heavenly.  _ Every touch feels different, lighting up every nerve ending in Steve’s lower body. It’s as though even after all this time, he’s still hardwired to Bucky, and every passing second just reaffirms that even harder.

“Buck…”

Whatever else was coming after that dies on Steve’s tongue as Bucky opens his mouth and swallows, lips sliding slickly down Steve’s cock, holding eye contact for as long as he can. His jaw stretches so widely that Steve is sure he’s hurting himself, making tears leak from the corners of his eyes. Bucky doesn’t slow or choke, not even when his nose is buried in Steve’s dark blonde pubic hair. He makes the slightest adjustment and lets Steve’s cock slide down his throat just a touch more, inhaling as deeply as he can through his nose and pulling at Steve’s hips to draw him closer.

Every thinking part of Steve’s brain shuts off at that moment, overwhelmed by the wet, perfect heat of Bucky’s mouth and throat. Bucky spares him a glance upwards, seeking praise, affirmation, the knowledge that this is truly what Steve wants. Steve’s fingers card through his hair, looking into Bucky’s eyes and nodding, words having failed him completely.

Bucky hums with contentment, finding the rhythm that he knows will work like magic on Steve. He shows no intention of hurrying, either, almost as if he’s savoring the taste of Steve’s cock and precome. Steve can see him coloring in long-faded memories, pulling them both back to something more than loneliness and heartache.

“God, Bucky, your mouth… so fucking  _ perfect. _ ” Steve’s all raw nerves and almost painful arousal, tugging on Bucky’s hair to try and anchor himself, crying out when Bucky hums again and makes his entire body shudder. Bucky finally starts to move, never once faltering as his head bobs up and down on Steve’s thick cock. Bucky always was good at this, those lips never failing to be soft and ready for Steve. They’re still beautiful, turning to dark pink when his mouth is full and stretched to the maximum. Even the cuts and bruises on Bucky’s face aren’t enough to take away from his beauty.

No one has ever really given him a suckjob like Bucky - not that Steve’s had a whole lot to compare to. Bucky’s mouth has always felt like it was molded perfectly to the shape of his cock, no matter how hard or soft Steve went with taking what he wanted from Bucky. Bucky always adapted, just like he is now, meeting Steve halfway on each thrust of his hips, laving his tongue along the sweet spots of Steve’s shaft, Every variation of contact makes Steve toe the line of climax again, vision swimming and unfocusing with near blinding ecstasy.

Bucky pulls back, letting his mouth fall open so that long strings of spit and precome still coonect them, shining in the patch of sunlight that’s coming in from behind him. Steve looks down, watching Bucky’s cock fatten and drip in the metal fingers of his left hand, precome slick all over his knuckles.

“Forgot how fucking turned I got when I choked on your fat cock.” Bucky doesn’t bother with wiping his mouth, smiling up at Steve while managaing to look debauched and angelic at the same time. Yes, Steve know he’s staring - but it’s not exactly like it can be helped.

Bucky’s simply too fucking gorgeous for him to look away.

“Why’d you stop?” Steve’s gripping the table behind him so hard that he’s managed to bend the edge, the space under his ass slick with sweat. His pants are now firmly around his ankles, leaving every inch of his body exposed to Bucky’s appreciative gaze.

All he can hope is that Sam doesn’t walk in  _ yet. _

“Wanted to see you, Steve.” Bucky’s right hand is around his cock, stroking so that his foreskin completely covers and retracts from his glans with every movement. “Wanted to watch you fall apart for me again.” He kisses the tip of Steve’s coc, lkicking the precome from his lipe as he draws Steve’s foreskin up tight. “Can’t exactly say I’m disappointed.” Bucky’s voice is like a warm blanket, draped over Steve’s shoulders, making him wish like  _ hell  _ they had a bed and unlimited time with each other, nothing nothing but their desire and each other to keep company. God, Steve wants that and so much more - but it’s a fantasy through and through, so he’ll take a dusty warehouse and a lot of bruises that neither of them set out to obtain anyway.

“Doesn’t take much, Buck.” Steve’s always going to be susceptible to Bucky’s touch, no matter how many times he’s experienced it - even this long delayed reunion has him feeling fragile and willing to surrender. “Never really has.”

Bucky licks him from balls to tip, leaving the broad, flat part of his tongue over the throbbing vein running up the underside of hit shaft. “Still want you to bust in my mouth, Steve.” He sticks his tongue back out, working the tip of it under the closed hood of Steve’s foreskin, licking around and around in lazy, determined circles. It’s a far bigger effort to stop himself from coming again too soon than Steve is willing to admit, gushing precome as Bucky swallows him, the head of his cock disappearing pass those sinfully gorgeous lips yet again.

“Yeah, shit, Bucky, play with my foreskin some more.” Steve’s toes are curled so hard that they’re threatening to cramp, thighs threatening to drop him where he stands, body shaking with overstimulation. Bucky’s playing him like a virtuoso, nibbling his foreskin as he strokes, having lonce since let go of his own cock to fondle and roll Steve’s balls. The metal of his left hand is warm now, and the foreign, out of touch sensation and machine precision of being handled with those vibranium fingers  _ should  _ make Steve want to close his legs- but they don’t, the just-too-strong tugs feeling so fucking good that Steve doesn’t mind being milked, head tossed back and moaning with the effort to hold himself upright.

Bucky’s smooth, metal fingers reach back and ghost right over Steve’s hole, shattering Steve’s resistance to not fucking coming with breathtaking rapidity.

Steve looks down just in time to watch the first spurt of come lay itself across Bucky’s reddened lips, the rest of it quickly swallowed greedily, accompanied by Bucky’s needy little moans. Steve feels the warm spatter of come against his calves, Bucky’s climax taking over him so powerfully that he has to let Steve’s cock out of mouth to try and catch his breath.

“C’mere,” Steve growls, hauling Bucky up out of the floor and switching their positions, pinning Bucky against the table and licking every drop of come that he can from Bucky’s mouth. Bucky groans and rocks his hips against Steve’s, their cocks catching and rubbing against each other, overheated, oversensitized - and Steve still isn’t going to stop, chasing his high now with every pass of his tongue over Bucky’s lips.

Bucky breaks the kiss, taking Steve’s chin before turning around and presenting his ass to Steve. “Figured that little trick would still be enough to get you off.” Bucky’s breath catches as Steve kicks his legs further apart and rubs, slowly, over Bucky’s hole with his fingers.

“Just when I was starting to enjoy your mouth, too.” Steve spits on his index and middle fingers, left hand holding Bucky steady by the hip, right firmly pressed between Bucky’s cheeks. He can’t see Bucky’s face right now, just the sweating, broadly muscled expanse of his back and shoulders. He’s covered in scars, some that Steve remembers, others that, one day, Bucky  _ might  _ tell him about. The tissues at the join of his left arm and shoulder looks…  _ tortured.  _ Forced. Deep, angry marks that remind Steve of an animal’s claws stand out against the other muscle, like some sort of failed attempt was made to forcibly remove the whole thing.

“Not pretty, is it?” Bucky doesn’t sound like he did a few moments ago, voice flat and distant like he’s retreated back into his mind. Steve stops rubbing Bucky’s hole and puts his arms around him instead, kissing the side of his neck and down to his shoulder, then working back up until his nose is pressed behind Bucky’s left ear.

“Doesn’t take a damn thing away from you, Bucky, I swear. Still fuckin’ want you.” God, they have so much to try and piece together, having this whole, separate life between them to reconcile with what’s happening now. “Nothin’ matters but right here okay?”

Bucky turns his head for a kiss, only this time it’s slower, softer, far more about helping each other and less about staying turned on. Steve will kiss Bucky until all of those frayed nerves and memories are better, every one of them a live wire that has the power to shock and hurt.

“I know,” Bucky whispers, shuddering when he feels the thick head of Steve’s cock against his hole. “I know.”

Steve keeps kissing him as he reaches for a rusted can of gear lubricant, the only thing that stands a chance of making what they’re about to do work. Steve pops the flimsy top off and finds that, in spite of having sat unused for so long, the clear liquid spills out easily.

The metallic smell takes him way,  _ way back,  _ and he smiles as he slicks his fingers up.

“Didn’t we use gun oil in the Ruhr Valley?” Bucky cracks a smile, head tilted so that Steve can mouth and kiss his throat. “Or was it breach cap grease?”

“Don’t think it really mattered all that much once I was inside you.” Steve’s already working two fingers into Bucky’s ass, fucking him just enough to give Bucky a taste of what’s to come. “By the time we finished, I think the whole squad knew what was going on.”

Not that being quiet had ever really been their specialty, anyway.

“Told us to stop using the oil and find something else to bugger with.” Bucky moans through gritted teeth when Steve hits his prostate, feeling hotter, brighter, than the rest of him. He’s  _ intensely  _ aware of how Bucky keeps tightening around his fingers, seeking more of Steve’s touch, even if it isn’t completely voluntary.

And if Bucky remembers them using gun oil to fuck against the side of a half track, Steve’s going to credit his memory being in that much better of shape.

“Steve, fuck, c’mon baby.” Bucky’s arms are shaking with the effort to hold himself against the table’s surface, sweat making the hair at the base of his neck curl and stick to his skin. The red flush of arousal blossoms from his shoulders to touch and color his ears, vitality proven and shown.

“Ready for a third?”

Steve takes his ring finger and rubs the stretched rim of Bucky’s hole, content to tease and wait until he’s given the go-ahread from Bucky. He wants to be inside him just as badly as Bucky wants him there, yes - but he has to make sure he’s ready, and that he  _ can’t  _ hurt Bucky in the process. 

And yeah, Steve needs a little more time to process what they’re about to do, too. Bucky has been his first and last, his one and only. There’s never been a time, for Steve at least, when it was “just sex” between himself and Bucky. That’s not how Steve’s wired, especially when it comes to Bucky. Every time to him has been significant, now more than ever, no matter the gap of time and so much else between them.

Bucky’s legs spread a little wider, and Steve takes that as the invitation he’s been waiting so eagerly for. The metallic scent of the lube gets stronger as he adds more to Bucky’s now gaping hole, Bucky’s knees trembling as Steve inspects his handiwork.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve lays butterfly kisses over the back of Bucky’s neck and shoulders, left arm wrapped around Bucky’s midsection.

“‘S just been a while.”

Bucky’s voice is sounding more and more tattered, like every movement of Steve’s fingers has pulled him right up to the edge of breaking. Steve’s intently aware of how he’s already wrecked Bucky’s hole, loose and slick for his cock. He dips his fingers one more time, all three sliding in without resistance, using the excess lube to slick himself up.

Steve cherishes the way that Bucky goes pliant as he feels the head of Steve’s cock press against him.

“Know it has, Bucky, swear I’m gonna fix that.” Steve holds Bucky steady, pushing in slowly to the point of nearly not being able to stand it. Bucky feels like a homecoming, tinged with melancholy tenderness that has Steve holding back tears again. He expects Bucky to feel different, for his body to push away and reject him. He’s so incredibly overwhelmed by the experience that it takes him a moment to realize that Bucky is calling his name, easing Steve out of his own mind with soft words and kisses over his shoulder.

“M’here, Bucky.”

Steve finds Bucky’s mouth and parts his lips for his tongue, eyes sliding shut as he starts to slide down into oblivion.

“How’s it feel, Steve?”

Bucky is hot as a star around him, all solid muscle and minute vibrations with every inhale of breath. Steve’s balls deep in him, head spinning and trying to reconcile long-suppressed desire with reality.

“Like home.”

Steve scarcely manages to whisper the words, leaning into the kiss as he starts to rock his hips.

It’s a rough sort of beginning, both of them taking a long minute to find their rhythm again. Steve’s so hung up on the long-distant feeling of being inside Bucky that he keeps forgetting to pull back, wanting to sink into the warmth that Bucky provides, hos body taken at just how  _ easy  _ it is to slip right back that slope, letting Bucky pull him down, down, down.

“Steve, baby, you gotta give me a little more.” Bucky is trying his hardest to fuck himself back on Steve’s cock, taking what isn’t being provided for him in nearly quick enough succession. Steve shakes off his reverie and wraps his arms around Bucky’s body, finally picking himself up and finding the hard, steady pace that Steve remembers Bucky enjoying the most. The sound of their moans fill the air, alongside the scent of machine oil and sweat, taking Steve back seventy odd years and to the backs of infantry vehicles, dark German forests, bombed out little towns where they somehow managed to always find a flat, steady surface.

“Quit thinkin’,” Bucky huffs, his hair swaying with every slap of Steve’s hips against his ass. “Can always relive our greatest hits later.” He takes Steve’s right hand and places it one his cock, making him stroke in time with his thrusts. “There, fuck, Steve, just like  _ that.” _

“Starting to see you haven’t gotten any less bossy, have you?” Steve slows them down a little, re-angling to nail Bucky’s prostate with every thrust. “Could always hold back, make you miss me a little more.”

Steve knows immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. Bucky’s head drops and Steve rushes to pick him back up. “Hey, Buck, stay with me. Didn’t really mean it.” He showers every part of Bucky that he can reach with kisses, fucking him hard and deep. He’s not going to blow this second chance that they’ve been given just because he can’t stop running his goddamn mouth.

“Think we’ve done enough missing each other,” Bucky murmurs, speeding Steve’s hand on his cock back up. It’s monstrously unfair to deprive both of them, not when Steve has spent every conscious day since Bucky fell off of that train missing him like a part of his soul.

Steve would be an absolute  _ fool  _ to not acknowledge that he’s been reunited with his soulmate, and that knowledge makes something dangerously hot break deep inside of him.

He can feel his orgasm looming, and Steve chases that feeling as hard as he can. “Know we have, baby.” He buries his face in Bucky’s damp hair, the urge and ache for release growing bigger, a promise rather than a threat to overwhelm him. Every stroke of his hips makes him see stars, the grip of Bucky’s ass around his cock so hot that he feels like he’s going to burn. Bucky’s leaking so much precome that Steve is almost  _ positive  _ that he already came- but he hasn’t, still holding out, waiting to fall over the edge with Steve.

“Close,” Bucky grunts, his metal arm leaving an imprint on the table’s surface from where he’s been digging his fingers in. He’s been trying with all his might to not be knocked forward by Steve’s body, pushing back, keeping pace right with Steve.

“God, Steve,  _ so  _ fuckin’ close.”

“Right with you.” Steve barely controls his stammer, eyes closed and the sun bursting bright enough to blind him behind his eyelids. “Fuck, Bucky, I’m gonna fucking come,  _ fuck-” _

Steve’s third orgasm washes away the pain of the long years without each other, filling Bucky up to the point of overflow. He hears the loud, heavy spatter of Bucky’s come cover the table they’re leaning against, his cock pulsing over and over again in Steve’s grip. Steve’s orgasm last so long that by the time it finally subsides, his thighs are threatening to cut out from under him. Bucky’s sobbing from release, the last of the fight gone out of him, likely the first moment of complete, blissful emptiness he’s felt in decades.

They’re left with precious little but the connection between their bodies, fingers entwined over Bucky’s heart as the aftershocks keep rolling through them, neither of them willing to let the other go. Steve can’t be brought to pull out yet, and Bucky doesn’t make any sort of move to encourage him. He wants this to last as long as time and circumstance will allow it, no matter how shitty their situation might be right now.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice holds both plea and statement, and Steve hums his attention against the back of his neck.

“Not gonna leave you again.” It’s as much a promise to himself as it is to Steve, sacred and true. “Swear that I’m not goin’ anywhere this time.”

Steve lets his tears fall without shame, hearing and treasuring those precious words. “I know, Buck.”

For that moment, Steve believes that maybe at last, there’s a hope for them, and as he continues to hold and gently rock Bucky against him, he lets the feeling in his heart wash over him and for a while, hold him there.

_ Peace. _

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a Hoagy Carmichael Song, "Ole' Buttermilk Sky."


End file.
